


Slipstream

by scandalsavage



Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gangbang, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spitroasting, Video Cameras, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Jason Todd is back in Gotham and running the Iceberg Lounge. But his estrangement from the Bat-family means he’s not privy to some information that may affect his life.Like the fact that Bruce and the others have been banished. Or that Bruce’s long-dead father from another timeline is in town causing problems.Or that he and Thomas Wayne have more in common than meets the eye.Or that they have a history Jason couldn’t have predicted.
Relationships: Bane/Jason Todd, Bane/Jason Todd/Pyscho Pirate, Jason Todd/Thomas Wayne
Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407088
Comments: 26
Kudos: 157
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge, Robin Christmas Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Specialist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Specialist/gifts).



> Hi so, this is probably pretty different than what you were thinking you were going to get (because the pairings are super random). But the idea has been on my mind for a while now (and Thomas/Jason is my pet pairing 😂). So I hope you like it anyway ❤️

There is something eerily familiar about the man sitting at the single deck blackjack table. Something that makes Jason’s body hair stand on end and makes him wary. Something beyond the fact that the old man is definitely counting cards. 

He is winning obscene amounts of money. It’s not that Jason particularly cares. They are still operating pretty much on Cobblepot’s money, and anything that pisses off Penguin is a giant bonus in Jason’s book. 

It’s just that _something_ gnaws on the edges of his recollection. Like a dream from years ago that he just can’t seem to bring into focus.

Sliding onto the seat next to him, Jason eyes the man up and down. A sharply dressed, distinguished-looking older gentleman with white hair and a tailored suit that doesn’t bother trying to hide the solid bulk of muscle beneath the subtly shimmering fabric. 

Truthfully, this is exactly the kind of man Jason might approach (or more likely steal interested but self-conscious glances at). But the _something_ in that square jaw, the strong line of his nose, the ice in those crystal blue eyes... hell, even the grimace lines that mark his brow, put Jason on edge. 

“You know, the former proprietor wouldn’t take too kindly to your cheating,” he mutters softly, so just the man can hear him. He doesn’t want to cause a scene. “He’d‘ve had his goons take you to the special concrete room in the basement to teach you a lesson.”

The man hums and places a bet. “But not you, hm?”

“Nah, not me. I’d just like to congratulate you on your winnings and wish you a nice evening. Wherever you care to spend it, so long as it isn’t here.”

After a brief silence, the man wins the hand and says, “I’m quite comfortable where I am, young man.”

Jason rolls his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this the hard way. “Look, _old_ man—“

“Where I’m from, I run all the gambling in this town,” the man interrupts. “I know how casinos work, _boy_.”

“Then I shouldn’t have to explain to you what’s gonna go down if you don’t leave quietly,” Jason hisses, bristling at the condescension and paying no attention to the odd phrasing. 

A shiver of apprehension runs down his spine when the man levels him with an all too familiar smirk.

“I knew you in your former life,” the man says, and Jason’s first instinct is to snort. Even so, he racks his brain for anyone matching this guy’s description from his Robin days, wondering vaguely how he could have made the connection. “Or rather, the current but alternate you. Timelines are a messy thing to try to make sense of, don’t you think... Jason?”

Jason’s blood freezes in his veins. He’s not unknown. Jason Todd just had a very public legal resurrection. But the talk about timelines? That’s super hero (or whatever he is) business. 

“Who the fuck are—“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish the question. A commotion at the entrance to the Iceberg Lounge draws his attention. 

He has just enough time to see Bane barge in with a second in command wearing a golden mask. Jason doesn’t recognize him, but he’s had his fill of funky masked men, thank you very much. Their minions have just started tearing things apart—flipping tables, harassing the guests—then there’s a sharp pain to the back of his head, and the world goes dark.

* * *

The first thing Jason notices when he wakes, while his eyes are still closed and before true awareness comes to him, is that it’s freezing. And it’s freezing because he has been stripped nude.

He sarcastically thinks _Well, that’s just fucking great_ as he opens his eyes.

The things his eyes are seeing don’t make any sense to his brain. Briefly, he entertains the idea that whatever knocked him out gave him one concussion too many and he’s finally cracked.

Nothing but a hallucination could explain why he seems to be in his childhood room at the Manor. He hates this room; avoids it at all costs. It’s a mausoleum for a dead boy. Bruce, Alfred, Tim... no one ever touched a thing. It’s a time capsule for the day he packed a bag and went looking for his mother. The last day that—despite his arguments with Bruce at the time—Jason remembers feeling happy.

And here he is, chained not even _on_ the bed, but to the iron rungs at the foot of it, naked as the day he was born.

Jason shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping to reset his eyes or brain or the funky disconnect between them. 

Only when he opens them, he’s in exactly the same place. 

“You were a priest,” a familiar, grizzled voice says from a shadowy corner. It makes Jason jump—despite himself—and twist around, looking for Bruce. 

But it’s just the man from the casino. 

Suddenly Jason knows why he recognizes the man. He’s the spitting image of Bruce in 20-30 years. If Bruce has the good fortune to age like a fine wine rather than a cheap cheese. 

“Where I come from, you had devoted your life to a higher power. A real higher power,” the man clarifies, shifting a little in his seat so the dimmed lights of the bedroom chase away the shadows. “Not the false god my son convinces his young, impressionable fans he is.”

Jason tries to shake out the fuzz remaining from being knocked unconscious. All it does is make his splitting headache worse. 

Eventually though, the words finally sink in, and... “Wait... what?” 

“You and I had our differences,” the man continues. “I had long since stopped believing in the things you clung to so desperately. But you were one of the last good men in the hellhole that Gotham had become. I am both disappointed that you fell in with my son’s foolishness, and relieved that you seem to have seen the light about the ineffectiveness of his teachings.”

Jason blinks at him for a moment, trying to stop shivering. “A-are you talking about—“

“Batman? Bruce? The man who took you in, offered you a home, a family, and gave you only war? _The man who got you killed_? Yes. I am.”

With a click of teeth, Jason snaps his mouth shut. He has no idea how this asshole knows about any of this, but if the old man is fishing, Jason sure as hell isn’t going to be the one who confirms Bruce is Batman. 

The man stands and approaches until he’s towering over Jason. When a big, calloused hand grabs Jason by the chin to tilt his face up, he tries to squirm away, only for the grip to turn bruising.

He’s suddenly very aware that he’s naked and the other man is still in that impeccable suit. 

“If you think Bruce Wayne is Batman,” Jason grinds out past the way the fingers dig into the hinges of his jaw, “it’s probably not the best idea to break into his house, strip his kid, and chain him to a bed. Seems like a good way to end up in traction.”

The man’s smile is genuine and the sound of his chuckle sounds real. “It warms my heart to see that, regardless of timeline, you remain an impertinent boy.”

Keeping Jason’s chin in one hand, the man tenderly combs his fingers through Jason’s now unruly curls. The action is too intimate for two people who’ve never met. Jason likes to believe that no version of him would have anything to do with a man as obviously unhinged as this one. Then he remembers that he is drawn to dangerous older men of questionable morality, and this man is definitely his type. 

If it weren’t for the present situation, of course. 

“This is _my_ house,” the man says, voice rumbling like waves in a storm. “I don’t _think_ my son is Batman, I _know_ he is. I saw him in my time. Spoke to him. Told him to leave the Bat behind and focus on his family. He didn’t listen. So I must save him from himself.”

The door behind Jason opens as his brain tries to decide if this guy is just insane or if he could be for real. The physical resemblances are too great to ignore, so he settles on the latter while recoiling a little from his initial attraction. 

“So you’re Thomas Wayne?” he asks, trying to turn to see who entered the room. But Thomas keeps his chin in hand and denies him the movement. “Certainly not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I would expect not from a boy who dug himself out of his own grave.”

Jason freezes and really meets the man’s gaze for the first time. He smiles, a big sarcastic grin, empty of anything but derision, and snarks, “And that lesson includes stripping me down to my birthday suit? Not a very grandfatherly thing to do.”

“I am aware of how capable you are. I found all your obvious weapons and tools you could use to escape, but I think we both know the safest option when dealing with one of you is ‘better safe than sorry.’” The pupils in those icy blue eyes get wider and something _hungry_ passes over the older man’s features. 

Jason swallows hard and Thomas grins, fingers twisting the lock of hair above Jason’s forehead like he knows it’s different, like he knows there’s a white under the black dye. “Even if my son considered you his, you and I have too much history for all that. But when Bruce came to my time, he told me I was a grandfather. That he had **_a_ ** son. One.”

The sound of Jason’s heart cracking must be so loud the room can hear, because Thomas’s expression softens. He looks almost... regretful. 

The fact that Jason _isn’t_ all that surprised to hear that Bruce doesn't think of him as his son hurts as much as hearing the evidence that proves his suspicions correct. But he _is_ surprised to hear that Dick especially, and even Tim, don’t rank. 

It’s kind of fucked up, the small part of Jason that’s more angry than hurt thinks. He’s known, for a long time, Bruce doesn’t care about him. But he’s suddenly indignant on Dick’s behalf. The first Robin has stuck with Bruce, defended him, weathered his mood swings and been Batman’s sole emotional support (a difficult and thankless job, to be sure) for ages. 

Unfortunately, Bruce’s feelings don’t change Jason’s. At least not instantaneously. Bruce is still the best—the only, really—father that he’s ever known. 

“Enough. I told you he would not accept your offer and join your cause. He is as indoctrinated as any of the others.” 

_That_ voice is _very_ familiar. Smooth, deep, and heavily-accented, it makes Jason flinch. He doesn’t have to see the intruder to know who has joined them.

Bane.

Bane is in Wayne Manor. Bruce’s home. 

And he seems to be working with Bruce’s own father.

“I haven’t even made the offer yet,” Thomas responds, not even bothering to take his eyes off Jason’s. Then, Bruce’s father gives him a soft smile. It’s so foreign and out of place on a face so similar to Bruce’s that it unnerves him. 

“My son has lost his way,” Thomas says gently, even though his grip stays strong. “You’re not my family, but you _are_ his, whether he acknowledges it or not. And he has willingly sacrificed you and your brothers in the name of a cause to which he is unwilling to fully commit.”

The fingers in Jason’s hair slip down to cup his cheek and the affection in the gesture, coupled with the words, stir something warm and _validated_ that aches deep inside him. He tries to stamp it down.

“Help me show him the error of his ways.”

It’s tempting. That’s the worst part. For a split second, Jason considers it. He wants so badly to find a way to get through to Bruce; to show him how he hurts the people who love him; to help him _realize_ so that maybe they can... maybe they can all find a way to be... if not _happy,_ then maybe at least _happier._

But this is not that way. Anything that includes Bane will not help matters at all.

“Not like this,” he finally answers. He jerks his towards Bane. “Not with him.”

Thomas goes from understanding and affectionate to cold and distant so fast Jason almost gets whiplash. The hand that had been petting his hair curls into a fist and pulls his head back so that his neck is arched painfully. 

“You’ll want to reconsider that answer, boy.”

“Yeah, patronizing is always the way to convince someone you’d be good to work with,” Jason snaps. “Fuck off with your bullshit. You’re no different from him. All either of you need to do is fucking _talk_ and instead you pull this extreme, dramatic, attention seeking shit. So go to hell.”

Jason’s going to have bruises from where Thomas’s fingers dig into his flesh like he’s considering ripping the jaw off with his bare hands.

“Extreme situations call for extreme measures,” the older man says icily, releasing Jason and stepping back, cool gaze raking over Jason’s exposed form. “You’re not the man I know. But you look like him, have his voice and his attitude. His body. So I’ll undoubtedly enjoy this more than I should.”

Thomas gives a nod over Jason’s shoulder and now that he can move, Jason turns to find, not just Bane, but the weird guy with the golden mask. 

Bane snaps the chain linking the cuffs together with a smirk that makes Jason feel deeply uncomfortable. He doesn’t bother trying to run now that he’s free. He’d have to get past Bane and masked man to get to the door and, well, he’s naked. Bane’s brute strength is pretty hard to beat even with all his tricks and gadgets. 

But the way Bane’s eyes travel over him too, makes his skin crawl. 

“Get on with it, Pirate,” Bane says over his own shoulder to the masked man.

Finally, now that it’s too late, Jason realizes he _does_ recognize that golden mask. 

Psycho Pirate. He can manipulate emotions, make people feel things.

Jason gulps. Feels fear settle in his bones for a heartbeat. 

Then the edges of his vision go fuzzy. He feels warm and floaty. And when Bane steps towards him, it draws his attention.

When did Bane get so attractive? Or how has Jason never noticed before now?


	2. Chapter 2

Watching Jason cling to Bane’s huge, broad shoulders as he rides the giant man’s giant cock makes jealousy flare hot and ugly and green in Thomas’s chest.

Repeating to himself that this is not his Jason doesn’t help. Focusing on the dark patch of hair at his damp forehead only makes Thomas annoyed that it should be white; only makes Thomas angry that Jason felt he had to color it, to hide something that marked him so clearly as special. 

Thomas would have kept Jason to himself. But Bane had wanted to kill him and Thomas could never allow that, even if this Red Hood is not his Father Todd. Bane getting his turn was good the price for Jason’s life.

And it’s too soon to be rid of Bane. Thomas still needs him. 

Bane’s big hand fists in Jason’s hair and jerks his head back to give the larger man access to the boy’s throat. Jason moans and rolls his hips down to take Bane deeper as Bane bites purple marks all up and down the curve of Jason’s neck and shoulders.

The tears streaming down the younger man’s face are the only indication that this may not be as pleasant for him as it seems on the surface.

The familiar little gasps and breathless _yes_ ’s are music to Thomas’s ear, or would be if he was the reason those noises were coming out. But as it stands, Thomas is all too aware that they’re forced. Bane’s cock is as proportionately oversized as the rest of him, and Jason had inhaled sharply, but otherwise just moaned when he speared himself down on it with no preparation and only a little lube.

Thomas will just have to take his time when Jason is his. Try to make it up to the boy. Coax out the real versions of those sounds. 

After tonight. After he’s done what needs to be done.

Bane clamps down on a perky, pink nipple and no matter what Psycho Pirate is making him feel, it’s vicious enough to pull a real cry of pain from Jason’s lips. 

But they boy just sobs out a “ _Yes—mngh—please... h-hard-er_ ” and slams himself down so hard he chokes a little and tips into Bane’s thick arms.

With a deep, rumbling laugh, Bane takes over, fucking up into Jason while pulling him down to meet each forceful thrust. 

“I like you like this, _parjito_ ,” Bane purrs against his ear. “So agreeable. So tight and hot. So obedient for me. So much better than the arrogant, wayward Bat who thought he could defeat me in combat. This is a much better calling for you, little birdie.”

Bane growls, lifts Jason bodily, and drops him none too gently onto his belly on the floor. The beast of a man follows, uses one big hand to haul the boy’s hips up into the air and the other to shove his face into the rug. 

Jason grunts and groans when Bane forces his thick, drooling cock back into Jason’s puffy, red hole and starts a punishing pace. 

He rabbits away at the body beneath him, alternating between long, probing thrusts and short, fast ones.

After several minutes, Thomas sees the vast expanse of corded muscle tense and he knows Bane is close. 

“Hayden,” the giant grunts, fisting Jason’s hair and jerking him roughly to rest on all fours. “Come over here if you want.”

Thomas almost objects. It’s taking all of his substantial will to not just kill Bane; to put a stop to this now, carry Jason into the master bedroom and override the pain and fear he’s going to feel after this with warmth and affection.

The only thing that holds him back is how much work he’s done, how far he’s come. He can’t just abandon his plans. And his plans still require Bane. And Psycho Pirate. 

Who now has his own, much more reasonably sized, dick down Jason’s throat. 

Hearing Jason whining for it like a bitch in heat makes Thomas feel particularly homicidal. He curls his hands into fists, lets his nails dig into his skin until he’s sure they’re drawing blood and tries to think of happier things. 

Like Father Todd on his knees in the confessional, while Thomas “confessed”.

He’s tugged back to the present by Hayden’s choked off grunt.

“Keep your mouth open,” the man hisses down at the boy on the floor.

Jason, lips wet and rubbed red from the friction of having them fucked, obediently keeps his mouth open, tongue out, as Psycho Pirate pumps his fist along the length of his cock a couple times and spurts hot, sticky come all over Jason’s face. He’s careful to get his release in Jason’s tear-soaked lashes and hair. But the majority splashes across Jason’s tongue.

Bane, still pounding away behind him, presses his own lips to Jason’s ear and growls, “What do you say to the man for letting you suck his cock?”

“Th-thank y-you,” the boy gasps, words punched out by the rough slap of Bane’s hips against his ass, voice hoarse from the abuse of his throat. 

Hayden grunts again and tucks himself away, backing off before he wears out his welcome.

Bane is close. He gets up off his knees, lifting Jason with him, so that he can have better leverage to fuck down, deep into that warm velvet hole clenching around his cock like a vice. He obviously doesn’t care that Jason’s head knocks against the floor on every downward thrust.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of keeping his more murderous impulses in check, Thomas sees Bane’s muscles contract, his hips stutter. After another moment, thick, translucent white seeps out of Jason’s hole, still stuffed with Bane’s fist-sized cock, as the giant uses a thumb to tug at the rim.

“You make a fine toy, _parjito_ ,” Bane hums, pulling out carelessly and wiping his cock off on Jason’s ass.

Jason whimpers, a wet, choked sound, at the loss. Then Bane lets go of his legs, letting the rest of his body drop to the floor in a heap, and he grunts in pain.

Thomas keeps his eyes on Jason. He just lies there. Not moving save to breathe, shallow and hitched, as Bane collects his clothing and leaves.

Only then does he stand from his seat in the corner, scoop the boy off the floor and gently lay him face down on the bed. 

He wets a washcloth in the attached bathroom and sets about cleaning Jason up. 

It’s not over for the boy yet, unfortunately, Thomas thinks as Wesker enters with a video camera and a tripod. This next step is the point. Show Bruce that when he doesn’t take care of his things, they’ll get what they need elsewhere. Thomas would prefer that Jason had come willingly, but he’s sure that by the time Bruce makes his way back to Gotham, Thomas will have swayed Jason to his side for real. 

The younger man whines when Thomas swipes the cool, damp cloth over his wrecked hole. Makes a louder, protesting noise when Thomas presses the plush fabric past the stretched opening and into Jason’s raw passage. 

He doesn’t mind seconds, but he doesn’t want them sloppy. Thomas is not letting his first time with this version of his boy be marred by Bane’s come dripping down his prick.

“We’re r-ready, sir,” Wesker stammers from the corner by Hayden.

Sighing, Thomas finishes the quick clean-up and throws the rag aside. He’d removed his suit jacket earlier but he keeps the rest of his own clothing on, just rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, knowing what that will look like to his son when he sees this.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, he unzips his slacks, frees his aching erection, and slathers on plenty of lube. It would be more pleasurable for Thomas if he used a little less, especially with the way Bane’s enormous cock has carved the boy’s cavity wide open. But he doesn’t want to further injure Jason.

Finally he reaches over and lifts Jason again, this time getting a little help as the boy tries to sit up under his own power, and pulls him onto his lap.

He gently tucks Jason’s face into the crook of his neck as he slides hands slide through the sweat and water along the length of the boy’s spine. When he feels the soft rise of Jason’s ass, he tenderly cups his hands around the toned swells and grips just hard enough to get the younger man situated.

His hard cock rubs against Jason’s limp one before moving under the boy’s balls and poking at his puckered, swollen entrance. 

Jason whines weakly against his neck. “Please,” he mumbles. “Please don’t.”

Thomas dips the hand he used to slick up his dick between those perfect cheeks and rubs lightly at Jason’s heated, abused rim. Partially to get some lubrication against the raw, sensitive flesh, but mostly because he’s been so patient and can’t keep his hands to himself any longer.

It gets him another, more urgent noise. So he threads his finger into Jason’s soft, damp, black curls and holds him close as he casts an annoyed glance over the boy’s shoulder at Hayden. 

Suddenly all the tension in Jason’s body melts away. His arms wrap around Thomas. He’s pressing sweet, eager kisses to the hint of skin above Thomas’s collar, along his jaw, until finally Jason’s tongue is in his mouth.

It’s a little filthy. Thomas would have preferred to have kissed Jason _before_ he sucked on Hayden’s cock like a fucking popsicle. But it’s _exactly_ the way _his_ Jason used to kiss him. All passion and desperate want. It’s just enough to make Thomas forget about Psycho Pirate’s come on Jason’s tongue for half a minute. Then he’s guiding Jason back to his throat. 

The little red light on the camera shines into the dimness of the bedroom as Thomas mouths at Jason’s shoulder. 

He ignores it. Jason ignores it. 

Especially when Thomas guides his cock back to Jason’s hole and slowly pushes in. 

The boy hums contentedly and lets his head drop back, baring his throat (which incidentally gives the camera, and later Bruce, a look at the lovely blush coloring his cheeks). 

Thomas loops one arm around Jason’s waist, the other around his upper back to hook a hand over his shoulder.

Then they move.

Jason rolls his hips down to meet each of Thomas’s thrusts up and it’s just like it always is. It feels like coming home after being away on a lengthy business trip. It’s as incredible as he remembers; the only thing about his time that he misses. His boy in his lap. Making love to him like nothing’s changed. Carefully driving into the younger man’s prostate on each stroke just to drink up those lovely, familiar noises.

He’s gone too long without hearing them.

Stripping Jason out of his body armor isn’t so different from stripping him out of his cassock. His Jason may not have had quite as many scars as this one, but he had more than his fair share. They both have the same soft lips, the same burning teal eyes, the same satin curls. Thomas knows that under the false black, this Jason has the same streak of resurrection white in his hair that Father Todd did.

The likeness is too great. Thomas gets lost in it easily. The feel of his lover’s warm skin beneath his fingertips. The flex of familiar muscles as they move together. 

Like they were meant to be together. 

Across timelines and universes, Jason Todd is Thomas’s in any world where they’re both alive to meet.

Overcome with emotion, Thomas buries his face in the curve of Jason’s neck to hide the single tear of his own that manages to escape.

They speed up. Their movements get increasingly erratic as they both chase their end.

Jason comes first with a shout that Thomas swallows down, hungrily fixing his lips to Jason’s. The younger man returns the kiss with desperate vigor, cupping his hands to Thomas’s face and licking into the older man’s mouth like he’ll die if he can’t taste him. 

It’s perfect. It’s _everything_.

Thomas feels his balls tighten. He hasn’t been with anyone since his arrival in this timeline. The loss of his lover and the discovery that his son had taken the family he’d built for granted, become the kind of father and man that Thomas loathes... it was all too much. 

This has... _healed_ him in a way too abstract—too selfishly entitled—to comprehend.

He pulls Jason down and shoves his cock as deep into his boy as he can get. Thomas empties his balls, fills Jason so full of his come that it drowns out any claim Bane may have tried to make. 

Jason is still kissing him like it’s better than breathing. Thomas doesn’t have the strength to stop him. 

Thomas doesn’t have the strength to let him go.

At all.

He’s certain Jason will come around; will learn to love him on his own.

But if he doesn’t... Well, if Psycho Pirate can manipulate Bane free of his addiction, he can manipulate Jason into an addiction of a different kind.

Sounds of shuffling in background inform Thomas that the filming is finished. 

Gradually, Jason’s panting turns to soft, quiet sobs. 

Thomas tightens his embrace, strokes his fingers through Jason’s hair and the others up and down his back soothingly. The boy doesn’t move, just presses his face to Thomas’s shoulder and weeps into the soft silk shirt, Thomas shushing him gently as the others leave the room.

Deep in Thomas’s soul, he feels a small kernel of guilt. It shouldn’t have been like this. 

But there’s nothing he can do about that.

Bruce had to see the consequences of his actions. That when you push away the ones you love, eventually they’ll leave. 

You have to hold on tightly to things you love with both hands so that they’ll never slip away.


End file.
